


first in line

by Springsteen



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 13:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12936633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springsteen/pseuds/Springsteen
Summary: Tyson really thought he could live like this. He might not be happy about it, but he could go on knowing he’d kissed Gabe Landeskog and that it had been a complete disaster. He had to accept the consequences of his actions and go on with his life.





	first in line

**Author's Note:**

> sort of set during the current ('17-'18) season, until i decided that this is fan fiction, where everything is made up and reality doesn't matter. as such, this is all fiction and does not at all reflect anything i believe to be true about any real people mentioned in this fic. unbeta'd and written largely out of order, so any mistakes are on me.
> 
> much thanks to [beth](http://bkmarchand.tumblr.com/) for general cheerleading and a lot of yelling about tyson barrie.
> 
> title from abba's "take a chance on me"

_If you change your mind, I’m the first in line._  
_Honey, I’m still free. Take a chance on me._

Tyson has always hated missing games - seriously, anyone who wanted to sit on the sidelines didn’t grow up to be a professional athlete - even though he knew there was no way he could play with his shoulder aching like this. He’d gone in too hard on a couple of hits against Ottawa, then fucking Phaneuf had tried to start some shit and before he knew it Gabe was fighting and his own injuries were the last thing on his mind. Now there was nothing he could do about it but take some time for the aches to fade and he could take a slapshot without feeling like his arm might fall off.

“We got this,” Nate said, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel as he drove them to the arena. “Feels good to be back, you know?”

“Yeah,” Tyson agreed. Stockholm had been awesome, and for all of Gabe’s relentless enthusiasm in the weeks leading up to their trip, it had pretty much lived up to the hype (though he’d never actually admit that to Gabe). He glanced out the window at the city flying by, the mountains dark in the distance, and told himself he didn’t need to be bummed about not playing in their first game back.

“Sucks that you’re not playing, dude,” Nate said, because they’d been best friends since their first season together and Nate had gotten pretty good at guessing what Tyson was thinking, most of the time. “We’ll score a ton for you.”

“You’d better,” Tyson said. “But, like, you can’t have too much fun without me, you know?”

“Duh,” Nate said. And then he turned up the radio so he could sing along, even though he only knew half the words and Nate had never been able to sing at all. The whole thing was so familiar, it could be any day, headed to practice or a home game, and it mattered less all of a sudden that Tyson’s shoulder ached so badly he couldn’t play. Some things didn’t change at all. Tyson changed the radio station just so Nate would glare at him, smacking his hand away whenever he tried to change it back. It totally was good to be home.

At the rink, he waited outside the locker room so he could talk to the guys as they went in. It felt good to be with the guys, even if he wasn’t going to be on the ice with them. Obviously he would prefer to play, but watching from the press box is better than watching it on his tv at home, if only because he can be there with the guys until they went out for warm-ups. 

“Hey,” Gabe said. Tyson hadn’t noticed him walk down the hall, too busy mocking Mikko about whatever was growing on his face, because no one could ever call that a mustache. He was definitely noticing Gabe now. He looked stupidly good in his game day suit - he pretty much always looked like a model, but this was just ridiculous. Tyson had been playing hockey for a long time, so he’s met a lot of hockey players in his life. Sure, some of them are pretty hot (Roman Josi could call him anytime) but most of them are really not. Plus, hockey was his job, so even if there were some stellar asses in the NHL, he’d honestly never really thought about it until he’d gotten called up to the Avs and met Gabe in person. Because Gabriel Landeskog is the most beautiful human being to ever exist, and Tyson is reminded of this fact pretty much every second of every day.

“How’s your shoulder?” Gabe asked, leaning closer to Tyson and blocking his view of the rest of the hall. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Tyson said. He almost shrugged, trying to keep up his careless and cool act, but he forced himself to stay still and not make his shoulder ache any more than it currently did. “I mean, it’s sore, but… everybody says I shouldn’t push it at this point in the season, which makes sense, so.” He put his hands in his pockets, probably wrinkling his jacket in the process, and was reminded that no matter what he looked like in his game day suits, he would never look as perfect as Gabe did. He’d tried to stop feeling bad about it years ago and he was mostly successful. 

“They’re right,” Gabe said. “We need you, but we don’t need you with a serious shoulder injury.” Gabe smiled and squeezed his uninjured shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll win it for you.”

“Oh, just for me?” Tyson asked. He smiled back at Gabe and was thankful he was out this game, just for a second, because it meant he and Gabe were having a moment.

“No, don’t be so selfish,” Gabe said. “The whole team deserves a win. Plus, it’s still pretty early in the season, but it never hurts to pick up a couple points.”

“Wow, really?” Tyson asked. He stuck his hand out in front of Gabe like he was holding a microphone. “What else can you tell us about the team this season?”

Gabe frowned unconvincingly at him. “Well, we just need to work on getting pucks to the net and creating opportunities. All the guys on the team are working really hard, we’re definitely gonna give it 110% out there.” Tyson laughed. Gabe pushed his hand away and said, “You’re such a dick.”

“Um, I think you mean I’m hilarious,” he said, still grinning.

“Sure, Tys, keep telling yourself that,” he said, smiling right back at him as he opened the door to the locker room

“Nate thinks I’m funny,” Tyson said loudly.

“I don’t know how much that really helps your case,” Gabe said, disappearing just as Lauren and a couple other people from PR came down the hall. They made him pose for a couple pictures, and he actually looks pretty good in the one they end up posting. Eventually, he made his way out to the box, just as the guys were stepping out on the ice for warm-ups. 

He fidgeted until warm-ups, feeling restless. He had no idea what to do with his hands, for some reason, and he really kinda wanted nachos, but no one would ever let him live if that ended up on Deadspin. “Benched Barrie Abandons Game For Snacks.” It sounded like something he’d do, but he didn’t need the whole world and everybody on the team to know that.

The game finally started, pushing all thoughts of food out of his mind, especially when Gabe scored fifteen seconds in. The puck rang off the post and into the net and Tyson jumped to his feet, screaming. At least if he wasn’t going to be on the ice, he could watch his team play one hell of a game. They were off to a great start, anyway. 

The first period went on, both teams going up and down the ice and nobody scoring, until Nate pulled some slick moves, skated through the Capitals’ d-men and put it away with five seconds left in the first.

“That’s my boy!” Tyson yelled, banging his hands on the edge of the box. Gabe and Nate had a goal each and there were still two periods left in the game. Tyson wasn’t that superstitious, not compared to some of the other players he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel hopeful at the start of the second. He screamed himself hoarse when Wilson scored halfway through and they were up 3-0, and Washington’s goal towards the end of the period still didn’t quash the ecstatic happiness bubbling in him. 

Tyson didn’t realize he was hopping up and down when Gabe went on a breakaway early in the third, fought the temptation to bite his nails as Gabe took his time taking the penalty shot, yelled with everyone else in the arena when Gabe scored for the second time that night. They still had fifteen minutes left and Tyson thought wildly, daringly, that he should’ve worn a hat to the game. Mikko scored a few minutes later and Tyson thought he should sit out for more games, if it meant the team would play like this all the time. He didn’t even care when Kuznetsov scored on Yaki’s penalty, because the Caps were still down by three with just under seven minutes to go.

They went on the power play again with less than two minutes left in the game, and the whole arena felt electrified. Tyson wasn’t even watching Gabe at this point, he was watching Nate, because if Tyson were on the ice right now there was only one thing he’d be trying to do, and he was sure Nate would be thinking the same thing. So when Nate passed it to Gabe he knew, before Gabe even tipped it in. Tyson could see Gabe’s giant grin all the way from the box, as Nate and Mikko and everybody else on the ice piled on him for hugs.

“That was my idea,” he said to nobody in particular, watching guys on the bench dump water on Gabe as he skated down the line for fist bumps. Tyson’s face hurt from how hard he was smiling and he wanted nothing more than to crush Gabe in a hug. Hats were pouring down from everywhere, and he thought about stealing a hat from one of the angry Capitals fans a few rows in front of the box, just so he could throw it on the ice. 

The hallway outside the locker room was a mess after the game, shouting and singing carrying through the door and echoing off the walls. Nobody from the media wanted to talk to him tonight, which was just fine by Tyson. He wouldn’t want to talk to him either, when Gabe had scored his first career hat trick, Nate had a goal and four assists, and Mikko had a goal and a pair of assists. All Tyson had done was scream a lot and managed to not make his shoulder hurt any more than it already did.

The guys started trailing out of the locker room, fist-bumping and high-fiving Tyson as they went. “Bar?” Mikko asked, flushed and grinning. “You’re coming, right?”

“Yeah, Rants, I’ll be there,” Tyson said. “Just gotta wait on Mr. Four Assists, he drove me here.”

“Okay, cool,” Rants said. “You owe me a shot.”

“For what?” Tyson spluttered. “Rants, That’s not how this works!” Mikko was already walking down the hall, obviously not listening to him anymore. “Hey, I didn’t even play! I’m _injured_! Rants! Respect your elders!”

“Seriously?” Nate asked, laughing. He’d justed stepped out of the locker room, already holding his car keys.

“You, too,” Tyson said.

Nate was already laughing. “Sure thing, Grandpa,” he said. Tyson glared at him and punched him in the side. Nate didn’t even flinch, because Nate may have been an idiot but he was also built like a tank. Sometimes Tyson wondered why he was a defenseman, why he was supposed to crash into guys like Nate and do anything worse than bounce off them again. “Come on, Brutes,” Nate said, heading off towards his car.

By the time they got to the bar, most of the team was already there, crowding in front of the bar and sitting around a couple big tables in the back. Tyson cheered when Nate walked in, getting a few of the other guys to cheer with him. He stood by the bar for a while, sipping on Sprite and chirping everyone he talked to. When Gabe finally got to the bar, Tyson cheered again, smacking his hands on the table until everybody else was cheering, too. The whole bar was pretty loud at that point, with the whole team there, and Tyson couldn’t stop smiling.

Tyson was drunk on winning, and he hadn’t even played in the game. Gabe had scored his first hat trick and Tyson hadn’t been on the ice, hadn’t even been on the bench, and he had to do something about it. All hat tricks were special, but first NHL hat tricks were sacred. Hat trick blowjobs were totally a thing, so Tyson figured somebody owed Gabe the best blowjob of his life, and he was more than happy to oblige - if he could actually talk to Gabe for more than 30 seconds. Everyone had gone out that night, even the dads and the older guys, and everybody wanted to talk to Gabe. Tyson could understand that, but it was really fucking with his plans to congratulate Gabe properly.

“Everybody out of the way, it’s the second star of the game,” Tyson called as Nate made his way back to the table with another drink for himself and another water for Tyson. 

“Shut up,” Nate said, but he was grinning and blushing. “Nobody’s gonna think you’re lame if you go home.” The trainers had given Tyson some low-dosage painkillers that made his shoulder hurt less but also made him sleepy and meant he couldn’t drink. He’d told Nate this, but he didn’t expect Nate to betray him like this with the information.

“Whatever, dude, I’m never lame,” he shot back. “Unlike Kerfy over there, what even is that suit?”

“Hey!” Kerfy said. “I’m just minding my own business, man, leave me out of this.”

“Spoken like a true lame-o,” Tyson said. 

“Lame-o,” Kerfy repeated quietly to himself. “Wow, Tys, that hurts. That’s seriously the best you can come up with?”

Tyson scoffed. “That’s all I need to say, that suit speaks for itself.

Kerfy frowned. “Clare said I looked nice,” he muttered, which made everybody chirp him, voices getting louder as they all talked over each other. 

“Nice, Brutes,” Nate said. “Now look what you started.”

“What can I say,” Tyson said, leaning back in his chair. “I always gotta make a scene.” He looked up and noticed Gabe finally walk away from the bar, where he’d been talking to Wilson and Comeau. It looked like they were about to head out for the night, while Gabe was walking farther into the bar towards the bathrooms. This was the opportunity Tyson had been waiting for all night. He almost knocked his chair over because he stood up so quickly. 

“Dude,” Nate said, looking up at him. “What’s going on?”

“Bathroom,” Tyson said hurriedly, shuffling around the table and trying not to look like he was hunting down Gabe. He got sidetracked when he almost collided with Teri carrying three pitchers and had to throw himself out of the way, right into EJ. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “Teri’s a threat to everybody.”

“Not to people who are watching where they’re going,” EJ said, pushing Tyson off his shoulder and back to his feet. 

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Tyson said, trying to find Gabe again as he pushed his way through the crowd. He bumped into him in the hallway outside the bathrooms.

“Hey,” Gabe said. He looked radiant - that was the only word for it, which kind of made Tyson want to punch himself in the face.

“Hey yourself,” Tyson said. “Great game.”

“Thanks,” Gabe said. The hallway was pretty narrow, and Gabe was standing really close to him. “Told you we’d win it for you.”

“You didn’t promise me a hat trick, though,” Tyson said. “Congrats.” Gabe’s smile got even bigger, which Tyson really didn’t think was possible. His face was flushed, which Tyson noticed because Gabe leaned in even closer.

“Thanks,” Gabe said. He moved to step around Tyson and he panicked, talking before he could even think about what he was saying.

“I, um,” Tyson licked his lips. “I wanted to congratulate you properly.” God, he was such an idiot, that was the least smooth thing he could’ve possibly said.

“What?” Gabe asked, his smile finally fading.

 _Fuck it_ , Tyson thought. He stepped forward and kissed Gabe hard, overestimating the space between them in the dark hallway. Tyson didn’t even have time to enjoy kissing Gabe. He pulled back, hands on Tyson’s shoulders to keep space between them. Gabe didn’t say anything, staring at him for a long time like he was trying to figure out if this was all some big joke. It would probably be better if Tyson played it off as one, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Tyson’s heart felt like it fell from his chest to his feet, through the floor, down into the dirt far below. “Not a good idea, Tys,” Gabe finally said, and before Tyson could even stutter out an apology, he turned and left. 

Eventually, Tyson went into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and walked directly back to Nate. “Hey,” he said. “I’m heading home.”

“Okay,” Nate said. He looked up at Tyson and squinted at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, dude, I’m fine,” Tyson said. He sort of smiled, but Nate was pretty drunk so he might not notice.

“Okay,” Nate repeated slowly, before he started digging through his pockets. “Take my car? I’m gonna get an Uber or something.”

“You sure?” Tyson asked. Nate nodded and handed his keys over when he finally found them. “I’ll see you tomorrow for practice.” 

“Course,” Nate said, hugging Tyson around his stomach. Tyson hugged him back, startled by how forcefully happy he was that he and Nate were on the same team, had become such good friends. 

“Text me when you get home, bud,” Tyson said, ruffling Nate’s hair. Nate pushed him away in retaliation. As Tyson was on his way out, he glanced back like an idiot and caught Gabe’s eye. Gabe leaned forward on his barstool, one foot on the floor, but Tyson turned away again and left before he could embarrass himself any more.

At first, it was a little painful for Tyson to go to practice and act like everything was normal, but he’d do what he usually did - just play through it. He really thought he could live like this. He might not be happy about it, but he could go on knowing he’d kissed Gabe Landeskog and that it had been a complete disaster. He had to accept the consequences of his actions and go on living, being a grown up about this every time he saw Gabe at practice, in the locker room, on the ice. Tyson was pretty sure he could ignore the stupid impulse he still had to kiss Gabe just about every time he saw him. He would have to, or he’d have to find out if any teams in the NHL were looking for a decent offensive d-man. Vegas could be fun, and at the rate they were going through goalies they needed all the help they could get.

He thought he was doing a pretty decent job at not moping - he didn’t go to Dairy Queen for breakfast, no matter how badly he wanted a Blizzard, so that was a success. He must not be all that convincingly happy, though, because when he walked into practice with Nate the next morning, EJ took one look at him and said, “What’s wrong, Tyson? Is Whole Foods sold out of Ben & Jerry’s?”

“Oh my god, how did you know? Were you gonna buy some for me?” Tyson was pretty proud of how normal he sounded. The guys laughed, Tyson went to his stall, and he didn’t even glance over at Gabe. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet; normally, Gabe never would’ve passed up a chance to chirp Tyson about dessert. 

Tyson got his practice jersey stuck around his elbows somehow. “Brutes, how are you such a disaster?” Nate asked, laughing.

“How is your face such a disaster?” He snapped towards Nate’s general direction. He couldn’t actually see since his jersey was up over his head. Someone took pity on him and helped pull his jersey into place. He expected to see Nate laughing at him, but instead Gabe was the one still holding the hem of his jersey.

“Thanks,” Tyson said. He could feel himself blushing and wished for the billionth time in his life that he could stop it.

“Sure thing,” Gabe said. Tyson waited for a chirp - honestly Tyson deserved it for that - but he didn’t say anything, just smiled softly and patted Tyson’s chest. Tyson stared after him as he walked away, totally baffled. He started to walk out to the ice when Nate stopped him.

“Dude, your laces are untied,” he said. “I didn’t know you needed so much help getting dressed.”

“Har har,” Tyson said, sitting back down so he could finish lacing up his skates. By the time he’d tied his skates properly, the locker room had emptied out, so he grabbed his stick and hurried out onto the ice, determined to focus more on hockey than on anything else no matter how good Gabe’s hair looked today. It didn’t matter.

The team headed out on a road trip, a back-to-back in Nashville and then Detroit, which was a pretty good distraction. He sat next to Nate on the plane on the way out and they spent way too much time coming up with new nicknames for everybody. 

“Oh come on, Teriyaki Sauce is amazing and you all know it,” Tyson said loudly - or as loudly as he dared when half the team was trying to sleep. 

Nate was still laughing about it. “Teriyaki, sauce me the puck,” he said, giggling. 

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Gabe asked, turning around to frown at both of them. He was smiling a little though, still carrying a little of that happiness from being home and his first hat trick and maybe, just maybe, he was smiling a little because of Tyson. He should learn not to get his hopes up, but he’d always been an optimist.

“Then who’d be the in-flight entertainment?” Tyson asked, grinning.

“You guys aren’t that entertaining,” Gabe said with a little laugh, turning around again.

“Yeah, well, you have a giant head!” Tyson said. That was his go-to comeback and at this point he said it after just about every argument he had with Gabe, no matter what they’d been talking about. “And you’re wrong!”

“Oh my god, just shut up,” EJ yelled back at them. He threw an empty water bottle at them but it missed Tyson, bouncing off Nate’s leg and onto the floor. 

“What the fuck,” Nate muttered, as Tyson said, “That was terrible! You missed!” 

“Dude, he hit me,” Nate said, kicking the water bottle back down the aisle. It was totally a tripping hazard, but it was too far away for Tyson to worry about and anyway, EJ was the one who threw it in the first place.

“Oh my god are you okay?” Tyson asked, a little sarcastic. Nate elbowed him, digging his iPad out of his bag. He cared about Nate, obviously, but he also knew Nate wasn’t actually hurt. From the seat ahead of him, he’s pretty sure he heard Gabe snort with laughter quietly. After the weird moment before practice the other day, Tyson was glad that at least that Gabe still thought he was funny, even if he’d never admit it.

“Movie?” Nate asked.

“Only if it’s _Titanic_ ,” he replied.

“Nobody wants to listen to you cry, Brutes,” Mikko called from a few rows back. He ducked as somebody threw a pillow at him. Tyson laughed, plugging his headphones into the splitter and settling in for whatever movie Nate picked. He fell asleep not long after it started and woke up to Nate shaking him after they’d landed. He followed Nate sleepily off the plane and onto the bus, not really waking up until he got to the rink the next morning for practice.

They got flattened in Nashville but he got two assists in game in Detroit and it felt like things were heading in the right direction again. On the plane back, Tyson looked up in surprise to see Gabe and not Nate sitting next to him. “That’s Nate’s seat,” Tyson said stupidly. It wasn’t like anyone actually had assigned seats, but people liked to sit next to each other for maybe their entire careers that they’re playing on the same team. It wasn’t weird.

“Do you want me to move?” Gabe asked, and he looked so concerned that Tyson couldn’t tell him to move, even though he kind of really wanted to watch more superhero movies with Nate.

“I - no, it’s fine, stay,” Tyson said. “What’s up?”

Gabe shrugged. “Just wanted to spend some more time with you,” he said. His smile made Tyson’s heart stutter, just a little, until Nate started complaining that he’d have to sit next to EJ now, jerking Tyson out of the moment he and Gabe were totally not having.

“Making new friends is good for you,” Gabe said. 

Nate frowned at him over the back of his seat. “Yeah, but you can’t steal my best friend.” Tyson was touched - honestly, that was really cute - but he just rolled his eyes.

“I’m not,” Gabe said, surprisingly sincere. “I promise.”

Nate slowly sat back down, but every once in awhile Tyson could see him glancing between the seats at him and Gabe. Nate was a great friend but he wasn’t terribly subtle. They were quiet all through taxi and takeoff. Neither of them spoke until the lights had dimmed and they’d reached cruising altitude, and it was still and quiet on the plane when Tyson finally asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Gabe closed his book, some paperback crime novel that had to be a thousand pages, and set it on his lap. “What are you talking about?”

Tyson gestured vaguely between them. “I don’t - You’re just… Not chirping me anymore,” Tyson finished lamely. Their friendship for the past few years had been based on amicable mutual antagonism, until Tyson had gone and fucked it all up by kissing Gabe. “It’s weird,” he said.

“You want me to make fun of you,” Gabe said slowly. His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion and Tyson really should not find it cute, but God help him, he did.

“Yes,” Tyson said. “Wait, I mean.” He took a deep breath. “I just want things to be normal between us again.” 

Gabe was looking at him like he was speaking German. “Why do you think things aren’t normal?”

Tyson groaned. “I just told you, you’re being too nice.”

Gabe smiled. “I think you’re the only person on the planet who thinks someone being nice is making their friendship weird,” he said. He picked up his book again and opened it to where he’d left off, so apparently this conversation was over. Tyson sighed and scrolled through his phone until he found a podcast to fall asleep to.

When he woke up, it took him a second to realize where he was. The plane was still dark, the engine still humming, so he couldn’t have been asleep for that long. He must have slipped sideways while he was asleep because his head was on Gabe’s shoulder and he was leaning heavily into Gabe’s side, Gabe’s arm wound through his so he could keep reading without Tyson squashing his arm. “Sorry,” Tyson muttered, straightening up and pulling away.

“It’s fine,” Gabe said, Tyson’s arm still trapped beneath Gabe’s. “Go back to sleep.” Maybe it was because he was still half-asleep, maybe because he could never really say no to Gabe, or because he’d take whatever contact he could get with Gabe right now. Slowly, he let his head fall back to Gabe’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and fell back asleep. 

When they got off the plane in Denver, Gabe smiled softly at him and Tyson’s heart felt kind of like it was way up in the stratosphere. The team walked together, sleepily making their way through the airport and back out to their cars. They’d left Nashville really early in the morning, and the sun was barely up at home. All Tyson wanted to do was crawl back into bed and go to sleep, but instead he’d pick up coffee somewhere and try to do something productive before his afternoon workout. 

“Hey, Tyson,” Gabe called from his car, parked a few rows over from Tyson’s. He looked up and took a few steps towards Gabe. “Have a good day.”

Tyson stopped. He’d been expecting something else, along the lines of “How many waffles are you gonna eat for breakfast today, Tyson?” or maybe “Nice job drooling all over my shoulder all the way from Nashville.” “Thanks?” he said, unable to stop his voice from turning the word into a question. “Um, you too, Landy.” Gabe waved at him from across the parking lot, and after a second Tyson waved back.

A loud horn blared to right, and he turned to see EJ grinning at him from behind the wheel of his truck, slowly inching closer and closer to him. He’d forgotten that he was standing in the middle of the parking lot, blocking the aisle to the exit. He hurried back to his car and got in, turning it on and waiting for the heat to come on.

He felt like he was living in, like, a fucking Jane Austen novel or something, all formal and “How do you do, Mr. Barrie?” Gabe was never this polite unless he was talking to fans or to new trades, and even then he started in on the chirps pretty early. He shook his head, turned the radio up on Nate’s favorite station, and went home. 

He did end up having waffles for breakfast, but Gabe never needed to know that.

Life went on with the hockey season, all more or less business as usual. Tyson was getting a lot of assists, second only to Nate, but he’d only scored two goals so far. For a d-man that wasn’t bad, but he knew he could do better. 

When the news came out that Nate got named first star of November, Tyson was out grocery shopping. “Hell _yes_ ,” he yelled, almost dropping his phone as he punched the air and getting weird stares from other people in the produce section. He texted Nate a ridiculous string of emojis and was a little surprised when Nate called him right away.

“Congratulations, ya beaut!” Tyson yelled. People were definitely glaring at him now, but Tyson did not care. His best bro was the best in the NHL. Tyson always thought Nate was pretty amazing, but it was nice of the NHL to recognize it sometimes - it wasn’t like Tyson himself was going to get any star of the month (in his dreams, maybe) but he liked to have a reason to celebrate. “So when’s the party? Is it right now?”

“Sure, if you consider doing laundry a party,” Nate said. 

“Seriously?” Tyson asked. “That’s really what you’re doing right now?”

“Yes,” Nate said slowly. “It’s not like anybody else is gonna do it for me, unless you’re offering.” 

Tyson scoffed. “Are you at least going out tonight? We have to do something.”

Nate took so long to respond that Tyson checked his phone to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “We have practice at 9 tomorrow morning,” he said.

“Oh my god, you are the lamest first star in the history of the NHL.” He almost crashed his cart into a giant bin of potatoes and had to dramatically steer it away, stopping just short of colliding with an older couple doing their weekly shopping. He raised a hand in sheepish apology and totally missed whatever Nate had just said. “Look, let’s at least get drunk and play video games or something. We gotta celebrate somehow.”

“No one ever believes me when I tell them you’re the one who makes all the irresponsible decisions,” Nate said. “But yeah, fine, come over whenever.”

“Awesome,” Tyson said, positively chipper. “I’m bringing vodka.” Before Nate could argue, he hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He rushed through the rest of his grocery shopping and dropped his groceries on the counter when he got home, shoving things into the fridge without paying attention to order or organization. He thought about looking for confetti or party hats, but decided against it since it would ultimately take time away from celebrating. He grabbed a bottle of vodka and a six pack, because it was always good to have options, and made his way over to Nate’s.

Tyson tackled Nate in a hug as soon as he opened the door. “You’re a star,” he yelled.

“Thanks,” Nate mumbled. “Come on, Tys, I can’t breathe.” He let go and walked into Nate’s house, straight to the kitchen.

“Damn, I should’ve got champagne,” he muttered. 

Next to him, Nate started pouring a couple drinks. “It’s not that big a deal,” he said. Tyson stared at him. “I mean, it’s cool and all but, like, just means we gotta keep playing hard. Right?”

Tyson leaned against the counter and looked at Nate. This was feeling way more serious and less celebratory than he’d been expecting and he honestly wasn’t sure how to handle it. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “I didn’t mean you should pack it in for the season or whatever, I mean, jeez, it’s only December.” He grinned. “Hell, if we all start playing like you we might actually make it into the playoffs this season.”

“Somebody’s gotta set a good example,” Nate said, shrugging.

“Speaking of good examples,” Tyson said, picking up one of the drinks off the counter and tapping it against Nate’s. “Cheers to you, dude. Here’s to a lot more great hockey this year.”

“Hell yeah,” Nate said. “Did you mention something about me kicking your ass at video games?”

“Um, no,” Tyson argued. “Because I’m awesome at video games and there’s no way you’re winning anything else today.” Nate’s stupid guffaws followed him into the living room. 

Tyson wasn’t terrible at video games normally, but he definitely got worse the more he drank, and they’d been drinking a lot that afternoon. He threw his controller on the couch when Nate beat him at Mario Kart for the fifth time in a row. “This game is stupid,” he said, collapsing dramatically on his side. “So stupid.”

Nate patted his leg consolingly. “Everybody’s good at something, Brutes,” he said. “You’re just not very good at this.” Tyson kicked at him and Nate sat on his legs.

“Oh my god my feet are numb,” Tyson complained. “Jesus, you’re gonna break my ankles.”

“Am not,” Nate said, moving around and trying to get comfortable while Tyson was still trying to kick him off. Nate leaned his arm across Tyson’s thighs to try to keep him still. Tyson tried to hit him with a pillow but missed by several inches, flinging it across the room instead. He reached for his glass to have another drink, because that seemed like his only option at this point, but he ended up knocking over the empty glass instead. Nate laughed at him from where he was still lying half on top of Tyson. 

Nate was, objectively, not terrible looking. He had pretty blue eyes, though if Tyson was being honest with himself, they weren’t as pretty as Landy’s. His life would be so much easier, though, if he’d fallen for Nate instead of Gabe. Nate was his best bro, and they’d be best bros no matter what. Dating Nate would just be like adding sex to their friendship, and it totally wouldn’t be weird at all (well, it would be weird because it was _Nate_ , and Tyson didn’t like Nate like that, but that wasn’t the point). 

“My life would be so much easier if I secretly had a crush on you,” Tyson said. Nate stared at him like he’d grown a second head, or wings, or something. 

“Bro,” Nate said slowly. “Bro. What the fuck are you talking about?”

Tyson opened his mouth, closed it, then took a deep breath and told Nate everything - his stupid huge crush on Gabe, him kissing Gabe after his hat trick and Gabe freaking out, Gabe’s weird polite niceness ever since then. By the end of it Tyson’s feet really were numb, because Nate was still laying on his legs. 

“You think it’d be easier to be secretly in love with your best friend?” Nate asked. 

Tyson frowned. “That’s what you took away from all that? When did I even say that?”

“Uh, at the beginning of this conversation,” Nate said. “You said your life would be easier if you were in love with me.”

Tyson shoved at Nate, trying to get some feeling back in his legs. “I never said anything like that.” 

Nate grinned at him. “Sure, Brutes. The heart wants what the heart wants, bro.” Tyson raised his eyebrows. As far as drunken conversations between best bros, this was pretty deep. “I don’t blame your heart for wanting me. I am the NHL’s first star of November, you know.”

Tyson groaned and buried his head under a throw pillow. “You are literally the worst,” he complained. “I hate you. Why are we friends?”

Nate just laughed at him, but he did finally move, standing up and stretching. He swayed a little and sat back down in one of his giant, comfy recliners. He pulled up the footrest and giggled when the entire chair rocked. When he stopped moving he said, “you should call him and tell him how you feel.” 

Tyson stared at him. “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard, bro. I already tried that, and it was a disaster.” He slowly reached out and righted the glass he’d knocked over earlier. 

“You kissed him in a bar bathroom, Brutes,” Nate said. Tyson was too busy staring at the ceiling to actually look at him. The ceiling was nice, and it definitely wasn’t judging him - not that he really thought Nate was judging him, but still. “Did you actually say anything to him about… this?”

Tyson snorted. “No, definitely not,” he said. Nate didn’t say anything, but he could feel him judging him. “I fucked up our friendship enough already, I don’t need to ruin it completely by telling him -” He couldn’t even finish that sentence; it was too ridiculous. This whole conversation was ridiculous. He rolled to his feet - the ground was a lot closer than it was a second ago, and he stumbled as he stood up. “I should have another drink, is what I should do.” 

He stumbled into the kitchen, half-dragging his feet across the floor like he was on the ice. He poured himself another drink that was more vodka than orange juice and drank half of it standing in Nate’s kitchen. He took his phone out of his pocket and stared at it, notifications swimming on the screen without his comprehension. Maybe Nate was right, and he should tell Gabe how he felt. Or maybe that was a terrible idea, and Gabe wouldn’t even be overly polite to him. Maybe Tyson would actually have to ask for a trade. He liked his life in Denver, and he loved his team, and he didn’t want to leave at all, especially over something as stupid as a crush. He shoved his phone back in his pocket, refilled his drink, and grabbed a couple water bottles out of the fridge. As he walked back into the living room, he threw one of the water bottles at Nate, who lazily tried to catch it but it ended up bouncing off his arm.

“Bro,” Nate said, offended, and Tyson honestly wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or the water bottle. Tyson flopped back onto the couch, sloshing his drink over his hand. He tried to lick some of it away but ended up wiping his hand on his shirt instead. “Rematch?” Nate asked. Tyson groaned, draping his arm over his eyes. Nate turned on the tv but switched it to HGTV. They spent the rest of the afternoon chirping people on House Hunters.

Tyson woke up painfully early the next morning with a blinding headache. Apparently he hadn’t drunk enough water yesterday, or he’d had more vodka than he thought. He dragged himself to Nate’s kitchen and had a couple glasses of water, staring at the contents of Nate’s fridge like breakfast would just appear. Nate staggered into the kitchen just after Tyson had decided scrambled eggs sounded like a safe option for food at the moment. He looked about how Tyson felt, somewhere between run over by a zamboni and like he’d slept in an active construction zone. 

Nate pulled orange juice out of the fridge, glared at it, and then put it back. He started the coffee maker and sat down, watching Tyson crack eggs into a bowl. Tyson thought about burning breakfast since Nate was going to be so useless, but he’d ruin his own food, too, and that would be terrible. He kept working on breakfast, eating a piece of toast straight out of the toaster and checking his phone to make sure they wouldn’t be late for practice. 

He had a voicemail from Gabe, from just before eleven last night. Clutching the spatula in his free hand, he pressed his phone to his ear. “ _Hey, Tyson. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you sounded pretty drunk earlier. Um. I guess you probably went to bed?_ ” The line went quiet for a second. “ _Yeah, it’s pretty late. So I’ll see you tomorrow morning at practice, and, ah, take care, Tys.”_ The message ended. Tyson stared at his phone, wondering what the hell Gabe meant when he said Tyson sounded pretty drunk earlier. 

“Are you burning breakfast?” Nate asked. Tyson swore and turned off the burner, stirring the eggs to see if he really had burned them.

“No,” he said triumphantly. The burning smell was actually coming from the toaster, which he’d completely forgotten about. Gingerly, he pulled out the really burnt toast and dropped the pieces in the sink. Nate grabbed a couple of plates and helped himself. Tyson served himself but left his phone by the stove, because he didn’t want any stupid actions of his past self to ruin his breakfast.

He didn’t even look at his phone again until he and Nate were in the car on the way to practice. “Oh fuck,” Tyson said, staring at the screen. “Oh, fuckity fuck.”

“What?” Nate asked, jerking the wheel a little as he looked over at Tyson. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Tyson dragged his hand over his face, scrubbing at his chin. “I talked to Gabe for five minutes last night, and I have no idea what I said.” He glanced over at Nate. “I don’t remember calling him at all. He left me a voicemail, too.”

Nate stared at him, which was a little worrying considering he was supposed to be focused on the road. “Shit,” he said quietly, looking out the windshield. “You have no idea what you talked about?”

“I just told you I don’t even remember calling him!” Tyson was definitely not yelling, because yelling would mean he was freaking out, which he was totally not doing. At all. They were almost to the arena anyways, so freaking out would be pointless. It wasn’t like he could hide in a supply closet to avoid Gabe for all of practice. “I need you to tell coach I’m dead,” he said. “And then help me create a new identity and move to Florida.”

“Brutes,” Nate said. “Breathe. You don’t even know what you said, you could’ve talked about our power play for five minutes.”

“How often do I get drunk and talk about our power play?” Tyson rolled down the window. He didn’t care if it was December and it was freezing, he needed some air. “I can work at Disney World. They’re always hiring, right? They’ve gotta be. I should probably dye my hair or something.”

“Brutes,” Nate said again. He’d parked in the parking garage and was looking at Tyson now, one hand still braced on the steering wheel. “Come on, Tyson, it’s okay. What did Landy say in his voicemail?”

Rather than tell him, Tyson just played Nate the message on his phone. “He doesn’t sound mad,” Nate said gently. “Or weirded out, or like he hates you. He just sounds like Landy.” Tyson couldn’t seem to look at anything other than his knees. He was still thinking about running away. He could go back to the AHL, if nobody else in the NHL would have him. That way he could still play hockey, and he’d never have to see Gabe again - a real win-win situation. “Hey, Tys, he’s your teammate. He’s your friend. He’s - oh shit, we’re gonna be so late.”

Nate got out of the car and for a second Tyson thought he’d just leave him there, until he opened the car door and grabbed Tyson’s arm, dragging him out of the car. “Come on, dude, this is pathetic,” he said as they headed into the arena. “Do you need me to slap you out of it? Because I will.”

Tyson blew out a long breath. “No,” he said. He shook himself, starting from his shoulders and hips all the way out to his fingers and toes. It didn’t really make him stop thinking about Gabe, but at least he wasn’t freaking out as much. He nodded to himself and jogged a few steps to catch up with Nate.

They were some of the last people to get to the locker room that morning. Nobody chirped them for being late, because a lot of the guys still looked half-asleep. Teri looked the most awake, already dressed and smiling at everybody. Tyson squinted at him. “Teri, are you a morning person?” he asked.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Just happy to be at practice,” he said. 

EJ yawned enormously in his stall. “That is some premium, grade-A media bullshit, Yaki,” he said. 

“Wake up, Johnson,” Gabe said. He was half-dressed, and Tyson had managed to avoid looking at him until now. It felt a little like staring into the sun. If Tyson was going to make it through practice at all, he needed Gabe to put a shirt on right now. “Not all of us are as lazy as you.”

EJ stretched and got to his feet, slowly getting into his gear. “It’s not lazy to want to wake up after the sun is up, it’s smart,” he said. Soon enough half the locker room was arguing about it, and Tyson let himself get drawn in.

“Fuck no, mornings are the worst,” Tyson said. “I don’t care how pretty the sunrise is, Josty, what the fuck.”

“I thought you loved breakfast,” Josty said, clearly full of himself like he thought he’d just won this argument.

“Yeah, I do,” Tyson admitted. “That’s what brunch is for. Also breakfast for dinner.”

“And second breakfast and elevensies?” EJ asked drily. 

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” Tyson said. He looked up to see Gabe watching him, smiling, from where he stood by the door. No, he wasn’t just watching Tyson, he was checking on everybody because he was the captain and, beyond that, he was a good captain. “Come on, let’s get on the ice before Landesnerd starts complaining about dedication or something.”

On the way out to the ice, EJ said, “I’m just saying, Tys, you’d totally be a hobbit.”

“I hate you so much,” he responded happily. “You’re the worst.”

Tyson made it through practice, conditioning, and weight training without actually talking to Gabe. He spent a lot of time with EJ, chirping everybody and fake fighting with Kerfy. By the time he headed home, he was feeling pretty normal. 

December went on. He dragged his Christmas tree out of the attic and made Tyson 2 help him set it up in exchange for dinner and a couple smuggled six packs of winter IPA. “This feels like rookie exploitation,” Josty said, struggling to connect the lights on the tree. 

“Aw, come on, Josty,” Tyson said from the other side of the tree, trying to help him. “I’m helping you get in the Christmas spirit.”

Josty went home that evening smiling a lot more than he had been when Tyson had first invited him over after practice, so he chalked that one up to a win. Christmastime was really tough to be away from family, and if Tyson could help his teammates feel less lonely, then he’d do whatever he could. 

The whole Gabe thing was still bothering him, though. He hadn’t chirped Tyson in like… way too long, and Tyson couldn’t take it anymore. He was so upset about it he was actually going for a jog, in December, in Denver, and if that jog just happened to take him past Gabe’s place, Tyson couldn’t help it. That was just the best route for him today, totally a coincidence. If it looked like Gabe was home then hey, maybe he’d knock on the door, stop by, and ask Gabe what the fuck was going on, if he was mad at Tyson because he’d kissed him or if he was freaked out because Tyson had accidentally declared his love via a drunken voicemail that he couldn’t remember at all. 

He got dressed to go jogging outside in the winter - this plan may have been, objectively, a little insane, but he wasn’t actually crazy - and did some stretches before he actually set out. About two minutes into his run he remembered that he hated not running on treadmills, and also his plan was more than a little stupid because it was getting dark already, but he’d decided to do this and he wasn’t a quitter. Gabe didn’t live that far from him, anyway.

When he turned onto Gabe’s block, his heart started pounding way more than it should’ve been from maybe ten minutes of jogging. Before he got too close, he considered turning around and going back, but his feet kept moving forward with no input from his brain. He slowed down and turned to look in Gabe’s windows while trying not to look like a total creep looking through the windows. Since he was so preoccupied, he wasn’t looking where he was going - big mistake on Denver sidewalks in the winter. He stepped on a patch of ice, his left foot immediately sliding out from under him. He tried to bring his right foot around to regain his balance, which would’ve been really helpful if he’d been wearing skates on the ice and not making an idiot of himself in Gabe’s front yard. He went down, hard enough to bruise but not enough to hurt anything more than his pride. 

Tyson let himself have a minute, lying on the sidewalk in front of Gabe’s house, wearing neon orange running shorts and feeling sorry for himself. He closed his eyes and felt cold seep in through his sweatshirt, both t-shirts, and his under armour. He needed to get up before he froze to the sidewalk, but before he could move he felt something sniffing at his hair. So this was how it all ended - lying half-frozen on the sidewalk in front of Gabe’s place, eaten alive by a pack of rabid raccoons. It’s not what he expected, but given the way everything in his life has been happening lately, he’s really not that surprised.

“Tyson?”

Tyson opened his eyes. Gabe was looking down at him, frowning with concern. Zoey was sniffing at his hair, pushing his headband down his forehead towards his eyes. “Tyson, are you okay? What are you doing?” Gabe crouched down and reached out to him. Tyson thought he was going to brush his fingers along his cheek or something, but instead his hand fell on Zoey’s collar, stopping her from crawling all over him.

“Oh yeah, dude, I’m fine,” Tyson said. He gestured vaguely up at the sky, really thankful he’d put on gloves before he left - there was a hole in this one he was pretty sure was from his fall. “Just doing some stargazing.” 

“Really,” Gabe said slowly. Zoey’s nose pressed wetly along his face, tickling as she sniffed down towards his chin. Tyson tried not to laugh, but the absurdity of this whole situation was unreal. He’d come over to talk to Gabe, to apologize for whatever he’d done that had freaked him out and try to get things back to normal. He should’ve known normal would be impossible for him. “Stargazing on the sidewalk in December,” Gabe said. He was smiling a little now. “Can you actually see any stars from down there?”

In his opinion, Tyson thought Gabe’s eyes sparkled like stars, but there was no way he was saying that. “You could lie down and find out,” Tyson suggested. Gabe laughed and leaned down, taking Tyson’s hands and helping him to his feet. 

“Your hands are cold,” Gabe said, running his fingers over the backs of Tyson’s hands. He could feel warmth from Gabe’s hands even through both of their gloves, and really, this was just ridiculous. Tyson yanked his hands away in a desperate attempt to preserve his sanity and to stop him from trying to kiss Gabe again. That hadn’t worked out well at all the first time, and anyway, they were friends. Just friends, entirely platonic, zero kissing involved.

“Do you want to come inside?” Gabe asked. Tyson hesitated. Yes he did - that was the entire point of him coming over here, to talk to Gabe, but he was suddenly filled with dread and really regretting this whole thing. This was already difficult enough, with Gabe watching at him hopefully. Maybe it was just Tyson overthinking everything, analyzing every aspect of their friendship and letting it tear them apart. Tyson might have been the one making it weird with his stupid feelings he couldn’t keep to himself. He needed to cut his losses and run - literally - back to his place, curl up with a mug of hot chocolate and some stupid Christmas movie marathon on tv. He could text Nate to pick him up a few blocks away so he wouldn’t even have to run all the way back. 

Tyson had a solid plan to retreat, and he opened his mouth to tell Gabe, but what he said instead was, “Sure, that’d be nice.” God, he had literally zero self-preservation skills, not when Gabe was standing so close with his stupidly blue eyes and the cute way his hair stuck out from under the hat on his giant head. He was an idiot for thinking he’d ever get over the wonder that was Gabe Landeskog. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Gabe asked for the tenth time. Honestly, Tyson was a little surprised he didn’t hurt himself, but if hockey has taught him anything it’s how to fall. 

“Yeah, how many times do I need to tell you?” Tyson said. “Did you hit your giant head on something?”

“No,” Gabe said. “But I was out walking my dog and I found you lying on the sidewalk in front of my place. Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

When Gabe said it like that, Tyson thought it was extremely fucking weird even for him, but there was no way he’d admit that to Gabe. Tyson shrugged and decided he might as well tell the truth - or at least most of it. “I was out for a run and I slipped and fell. You’d think they’d salt the sidewalks or whatever.”

“You fell and you didn’t hurt yourself?” Gabe asked quickly. Tyson rolled his eyes dramatically, but his annoyance quickly changed to surprise when Gabe grabbed both his wrists and slowly moved his hands up his arms. “Does this hurt? Did you hurt your shoulder again? Should I call-”

“Gabe, seriously, I’m fine,” Tyson said, but as he said the last word, Gabe’s fingers grazed over a spot on the back of his arm just above his elbow that stung. He jerked back and twisted his arm, craning his neck trying to get a look at it. Gabe gently stretched his arm so he could look at the scrape on the back of his arm, his shirt torn from when he fell. “Okay, for real, I didn’t even feel that until now. And no, it’s not from adrenaline or whatever, I barely scratched it.” 

Gabe frowned like he still didn’t really believe Tyson, which was ridiculous. It’s not like Tyson would lie about being hurt to save himself from being embarrassed - no one would ever let him forget the time he sprained his knee on a roadie last season because he was wrestling Nate for the tv remote. “Come on,” Gabe said. “I’ve got band-aids and stuff inside.” With no other choice, he followed Gabe into his condo, Zoey trotting along happily beside them.

Gabe didn’t even bother to take his shoes off, just held the door open for Tyson, unclipped Zoey’s leash and immediately went to get a first aid kit. He was back pretty quick, holding a box of bandages and some kind of antibiotic. “You’ll have to take your shirt off,” he said. 

“Jesus, Gabe, I can put a couple band-aids on my arm,” Tyson said. Before Gabe could argue, he took the stuff out of his hands and stepped past Gabe, closing himself in the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against the back of the door and pressed his hands against it, reminding himself to keep it together. He’d gotten this far in his plan; now all he had to do was fix things with Gabe, to figure out how to get Gabe to stop looking at him like he would fall apart or run away or whatever. Gabe had hardly even chirped him at all, and that was maybe the worst part, or at least the most obvious. Ever since he’d kissed him, Gabe had been overly friendly but it hadn’t felt like their old friendship at all. 

He peeled off the layers of shirts he wore, his t-shirt coming off easily, taking more care with the long-sleeved shirt and the hoodie that had both torn when he’d fallen. He had just finished cleaning off the scrape, which was honestly barely even a scrape at all -he was barely even bleeding - when Gabe knocked on the door. 

“Tyson?” Gabe called. “I brought you a clean shirt.” Tyson slapped a band-aid over the scrape on his arm, then turned to look at himself in the mirror. He’d already yanked the headband off his head and was trying to fix his stupid hair when he remembered that it did not matter what he looked like because all he wanted from Gabe was for their friendship to go back to what it was. “Unless you really wanna wear one with holes in it,” Gabe continued.

Tyson turned around and opened the door. Gabe stood, holding a sweatshirt bunched in both hands. Tyson took it from him with a muttered “thanks” and closed the door again before Gabe could try and check on his arm again. Tyson pulled his own t-shirt back on before putting on the sweatshirt Gabe had given him. It was an Avs one, but thankfully it didn’t have “92” or “Landeskog” on it anywhere.

He grabbed the clothes he’d tossed on the floor and opened the door, relieved that Gabe wasn’t still standing out in the hallway. Tyson found Gabe in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and looking down at his phone. He looked up when Tyson walked in the room.

“Oh, hey,” Gabe said, like he’d planned on having Tyson over this whole time. “You can throw that in the wash if you want.”

“Oh,” Tyson said. He didn’t care what happened to the stupid shirt. “Yeah okay, thanks.” He turned around and walked back down the hall to the closet where the washer and dryer were. He flung the clothes into the washer and jammed some buttons, not paying attention at all. Really, all he had to do was talk to Gabe - he did that all the time. Usually it was about hockey, but still, he could talk to him. He talked pretty much constantly, he just had to try and not say anything stupid this time. He wandered back down the hall and into the living room, looking out the window without really seeing anything.

“You wanna sit down?” Gabe asked from the kitchen. “We could watch a movie or whatever.” Tyson walked over and sat down on the couch, watching Gabe carry two glasses of water to the coffee table and sit down on the other end of the couch. “Anything you wanna watch?” he asked. Tyson shrugged, so Gabe scrolled through channels until he found a terrible Hallmark Christmas movie.

“Are you serious,” Tyson said. He loved these dumb movies, but he thought the only person who actually knew that was his mom.

“It’s Christmas,” Gabe said, like that explained it, except that was how Tyson justified watching way too many of these kinds of movies. He could’ve kissed him, but he remembered Gabe gently pushing his away, hands on his shoulders. He clenched his hands into fists and decided, now or never, it was time to deal with this.

“Look, dude,” Tyson said. “Gabe.” There was a reason why he came over here and he was going to fucking say it, damnit. If he didn’t, he’d probably go completely insane and ask for a trade, and he couldn’t do that to the guys. Not so soon after Dutchy. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I totally freaked you out when I kissed you, I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid.”

“Tyson, it’s okay,” Gabe said, but that was the whole problem. It wasn’t okay, no matter how hard Gabe tried to pretend it was. He had moved closer to Tyson at some, and Tyson had to put some space between them before he actually listened to the tiny part of his brain telling him to kiss Gabe again, just to be super extra sure Gabe really wasn’t into him. He stood up and took a few steps away from the couch.

“No, it really isn’t okay,” Tyson argued. “I kissed you and you freaked out, and then I called you super drunk and I don’t even _remember_ it, and wow, you are totally justified in being weird about all this because I am _so weird all the time_.”

“I’m being weird about all this,” Gabe repeated. He stood up and started to say something else, but Tyson cut him off because he had a point.

“I mean, you’re acting like everything's totally normal and it’s kind of weird but it’s great but I _can’t_ be normal, because -” Tyson cut himself off. Gabe was standing so close he was practically cross-eyed trying to look at him, Gabe’s hands resting on his shoulders. Maybe, Tyson thought wildly, he was going to throw him out the window. At least that would shut him up and give him some sense of closure. 

“Tyson,” Gabe said softly, and then he kissed him. Tyson’s brain shut down completely. He had no idea what to do, no ability to actually respond, and before he could grab Gabe and kiss him the way he’s been wanting to for literally months, Gabe pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at the floor, “for making you think I didn’t want this - want _you_. Because I do.”

Tyson stared at him. There were a lot of ways he’d imagined this conversation going, but never in a million years had he considered this. He had just assumed that his attraction to Gabe was unending and one-sided, but he might have been really wrong. “What the fuck did I say on that phone call?” he asked, because even though Gabe had just kissed him, he couldn’t just accept it. He needed answers.

Gabe laughed. “Well, you told me I had a beautiful giant head.” Tyson groaned and buried his face against Gabe’s shoulder. “And also that my eyes were prettier than Nate’s, and then there was some kind of complicated hypothetical situation, I think it was about the Golden Knights, somehow.”

“I didn’t say anything weird, though?” Tyson asked, voice muffled.

“Everything you say is weird, Tys. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tyson could’ve cried. He felt like this was the first time he’d actually talked to Landy in weeks. Instead, he smiled at Gabe like an idiot, Gabe smiling right back until he leaned in and kissed him again. This time, Tyson kissed him back, finally getting his hands in Gabe’s prince-perfect hair. Part of him felt like none of this was actually happening, like he’d wake up in a minute to Nate taking embarrassing pictures of him half-awake on the plane, but then Gabe tightened his grip on Tyson’s hips and flicked his tongue against his lips and all Tyson could think was Gabe, Gabe, Gabe.

“Wait, wait, wait a second,” Tyson said, pulling back. He forgot what he was going to say because he honestly got a little lost in Gabe’s stupidly blue eyes, and he shook his head to get his thoughts back on track. “I thought you said this wasn’t a good idea?” 

Gabe frowned. “I didn’t say that,” he said. “Making out in a bar where anybody on the team can see isn’t a good idea. But you...” Gabe was brushing his fingers up and down Tyson’s back, making it hard for him to focus on anything but the feeling. Tyson bit his lip and paid attention to what he was saying. “I was being so nice because I was trying to apologize for not kissing you that night.”

“You could have actually said something,” Tyson said. “Instead of letting me come to amazingly super wrong conclusions.” 

"You were avoiding me," Gabe said. Tyson was about to argue, but he realized that was definitely true, even if he hadn't exactly intended to avoid him. Gabe smirked. “Better late than never?” he said. Tyson snorted, but he also pulled Gabe in for another kiss. He did have a point, after all.

“Oh, wait,” Tyson said. Talking about that disastrous kiss in the bar reminded Tyson of what he was actually planning to do that night.

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“No, and you already knew that,” Tyson said. “And you kissed me, no takebacks.” Gabe laughed. “I was gonna blow you in the bathroom at that bar. Hat trick blow job, you know?” Gabe definitely wasn’t laughing now. He pulled Tyson close and kissed him again, much dirtier than their kisses earlier. Tyson pressed himself against Gabe, one hand still in his hair and the other digging into the muscles of his back as Gabe dragged his hands down to Tyson’s ass, trying to pull him closer. Tyson was getting hard already, and he couldn’t remember the last time making out with someone had felt this good. 

Gabe pulled back, leaning his forehead against Tyson’s and breathing hard. “Is, um.” He licked his lips. Tyson couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing him again. “Is that offer still on the table?” Tyson blinked up at him, confused. Gabe laughed shakily. “Hat trick blow job,” he said. 

Tyson stared at him. “ _Yes_ ,” he said, practically throwing himself at Gabe in his rush to kiss him again. He kissed him hungrily, pushing his tongue in Gabe’s mouth and shivering when Gabe groaned. Gabe grabbed the bottom of his shirt - _Gabe’s_ shirt, Tyson remembered - and pulled it up, tossing it aside once Tyson had gotten it over his head. “You too, come on,” Tyson said, shoving at Gabe’s shirt. Gabe pulled his shirt off and Tyson immediately ran his hands over his chest. He saw Gabe without a shirt in the locker room all the time, but this was totally different. Tyson knew he was smiling like an idiot but he really, really didn’t care, shoving Gabe towards the hall.

Apparently his bedroom was too far, because Gabe sat down hard on the couch and pulled Tyson between his legs. Tyson leaned over him and kissed him, relishing being the taller one for once, loving the way Gabe pressed up and into him with his big hands wrapped around his hips. He leaned closer and closer until he was kneeling on the couch, sitting in Gabe’s lap as Gabe sucked a hickey onto his chest. He pulled Gabe’s head up so he could kiss him again before getting off Gabe’s lap, kissing down his chest as he slid to the floor.

“Here,” Gabe said, handing him a pillow. “For your knees. You’re not as young as you act.” Tyson whacked him with the pillow as Gabe laughed, but he did drop it on the floor and kneel on it. Gabe undid his belt, then the button and zipper, Tyson’s hands high on his thighs. Gabe lifted his hips so Tyson could pull his pants down. Gabe’s dick was like all the rest of him, thick and really pretty, and he leaned in before he could rethink any of this, licking from the head all the way down. Above him, Gabe gasped. 

It had been a while since Tyson has done this, but he figured sucking a dick was like riding a bike. Or something. He wrapped his hand around the base, bringing his lips up to touch his fingers and sliding his tongue along the underside of Gabe’s dick. Gabe cursed softly, his hands flexing on the couch cushions. He pulled off to breathe for a second, tightening his grip and working him with his hand. “You can touch me, you know,” he said, leaning out again and sliding his tongue over the tip of Gabe’s dick.

“Fuck,” Gabe muttered, one hand tightening in Tyson’s hair. Gabe traced along Tyson’s cheekbone with his other hand, his thumb resting at the corner of Tyson’s lips. Gabe was looking down at him, eyes huge and dark and eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. He thrust up into Tyson’s mouth and Tyson pulled off, coughing.

“Sor- sorry,” Gabe said, smoothing his hand through Tyson’s hair. The way he was biting his lip looked painful.

“S’okay,” Tyson muttered, leaning in again and pressing his free hand down hard on Gabe’s thigh. Gabe mumbled something in Swedish and tightened his fingers in his hair again, and Tyson was pretty proud of himself for that. 

“Tys,” Gabe said, his voice cracking. “Tys, I’m-” Tyson pulled off with an absolutely filthy noise, jerking him off until he came all over his fingers. Tyson wiped his hand on the shirt closest to him and let Gabe drag him up for another kiss. He was so hard it was really uncomfortable, but before he even reached for his shorts, Gabe had them down to his knees and wrapped his hand around his dick. It was too dry and not as tight as Tyson liked it, but he wasn’t about to complain because it was still Gabe’s hand on his dick. 

He came surprisingly fast, shuddering through it and staring at the way it splattered across Gabe’s abs. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and dragged his fingers through it, completely transfixed by the way Gabe’s muscles moved when he sucked in a breath. 

“Wow,” Gabe said. 

“Yeah,” Tyson agreed. He shoved his shorts off and onto the floor, because there was really no point in wearing pants now or ever again around Gabe.

“I finally found a way to shut you up,” Gabe said. Tyson whipped his head up to glare at him, but Gabe was already laughing. Tyson tried to frown, but it was really impossible when he gently kissed his temple. He pulled them down so they were lying side by side, and Gabe pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over them. On tv, heartfelt declarations of love were happening in front of a Christmas tree and outside, snow was softly falling.

Sunlight streaming through the window woke Tyson up the next morning. He definitely wasn’t in his own bed, because he had blackout blinds at home, and these sheets were softer than Tyson’s. He stretched and rolled over, realizing Gabe wasn’t in bed anymore. He pulled on Gabe’s sweatshirt and went to find him.

Gabe was in the kitchen, making pancakes wearing nothing but his boxers. “Hey,” he said, grinning brightly when he saw Tyson. “Coffee?”

“Are you making me pancakes?” Tyson asked. He took the mug Gabe offered him and inhaled deeply. “Gabriel Landeskog, are those chocolate chips?”

Gabe’s smile dimmed a little. “I know your favorite’s waffles, but -” Tyson grabbed his face and kissed him. 

“You’re perfect, and you’re too good for me,” Tyson said, kissing him again. 

“I’m really not,” Gabe muttered against his lips. “I am spoiling you, though.”

Tyson grinned. “Yeah, well, you love it,” he said, heart stuttering when he’d realized what he said. 

Gabe either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Yeah, I kinda do,” he said, kissing Tyson again. 

Chocolate chip pancakes and kisses for breakfast: he could definitely get used to this. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i'm on [tumblr](http://segwins.tumblr.com).


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